


Knowledge Management in an Academic Setting

by Nevanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Five times that Martin suspected Elias' true nature, and one time that he didn't.





	Knowledge Management in an Academic Setting

**Author's Note:**

> You can probably read this without having read the other stories in [the same AU](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/The_Magnusquerade/profile), though I don't think that any of us would complain if you wanted to look at those as well.

Martin rounded a corner and nearly collided with one of the archival assistants. “Sorry,” Michael gasped. “Guess there’s no point in my rushing anywhere, now that he’s dead.”

“Say, what?” Martin took a step back. “_Who’s_ dead?”

“Homeless bloke who came in to give a statement. Ms. Robinson’s already called an ambulance, but I reckon that someone should tell the boss, yeah?”

“There’s no need, Michael.” Neither of them had heard Elias approach. “I’m already quite aware of our self-proclaimed ‘vampire killer’s’ unfortunate passing,” he continued. “He was a brave soul indeed, to set foot in this place. I’ll want to speak with the ambulance men when they arrive, of course. Martin, that will be all, for now.”

Later, Martin couldn’t recall his feet propelling him back to his desk, but he remembered Elias’ strong fingers on his shoulder, nudging him forward.

-

Tim was rubbing his neck as he stepped out of Elias’ office. “See something you like?” he asked when he caught Martin staring at the mark of someone’s teeth, already healing but still unmistakable.

“It looks like…” Martin hesitated. How did guys like Tim casually throw around this sort of conversation? “You must’ve had some fun over the weekend.”

“A gentleman never tells,” Tim said with a grin, and continued on his way.

That should have been a warning sign, all on its own: Tim might or might not have considered himself a gentleman, but he _never_ missed an opportunity to describe his exploits, in detail, and often with hand gestures. His narration had only become more inspired once they’d started working in the Archives, even after Jon was obliged to speak with him about “professional behavior.”

On the other hand, at least Tim _had_ an explanation. The next three colleagues that Martin saw with hickeys on their necks seemed vaguely uncertain about how those marks had ended up there.

Martin didn’t necessarily expect any of his research, in the library or online, to turn up guidelines to the effect of “what to do when your workplace has a vampire problem,” but he’d be the first to admit that if any workplace could benefit from such a policy, it would definitely be the Magnus Institute.

-

One of the residential buildings that Martin had decided to visit, in the wake of an archival investigation, _definitely_ had a vampire problem. And after the creatures found out where he lived, and trapped him there for two miserable weeks, Jon’s spare bed in the Archives felt like the safest place imaginable. After only one night, Martin already felt less like he was going to be sick every time he moved, or jump out of his skin, and his hands were steady as he went through some of their old files, looking for something that would be relevant to the case.

He almost didn’t notice the photograph. It was faded and crumbling at the edges, and there were no names written on the back: only a date, from nearly eighty years ago, which seemed to align with the clothing of two men in the picture. But there was something so familiar about one of their faces, especially around the eyes and mouth… “Jon?”

The voice that answered him was as clipped and impatient as always. “What is it, Martin?”

Martin held up the picture. “Don’t you think this looks like Elias?” He half expected an answer along the lines of _You’re just imagining things_ or _I don’t care to be distracted right now…_

But Jon carefully took the file, their fingers touching for an all-too-brief moment. “A bit, I suppose. It’s hard to tell what anybody looks like in those old photos, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his family has some connection to the Institute.” He reached up to tug at his collar with his other hand, and Martin tried not to stare.

After that, he started watching more closely, to figure out whether Elias ever arrived at work before sunrise or left before sunset. He never did.

When Martin looked for the photograph again, it was nowhere to be found.

-

Martin found Elias more or less where Rosie said that he would be: on his way out of the library. “Some of us are going out for lunch,” Martin told him. “Would you like to come along?” The weather forecast had promised sunshine throughout the day, and Tim had come to work with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned almost past the point of acceptability. Jon, however, remained disappointingly buttoned-up.

“No, thank you.” Elias grinned. “I’ve made other plans.”

_Oh, have you?_ “I could bring something back for you,” Martin offered. “We’re going to Augusta’s, and they make a fantastic garlic pasta…”

“I appreciate your dedication to keeping me well-fed,” Elias interrupted, “but you have my answer. Now, shouldn’t you make the most of your lunch hour?” Somehow, despite his mild tone, the question hit Martin with the force of a command. “You wouldn’t want to get left behind.”

-

After the attack on the Institute, all of the staff were ordered to take a paid leave of absence, which would have been the perfect opportunity for Martin to reconnect with family or friends, but he didn’t have too many people worth visiting. He did try to spend as little of that time as possible in his flat, filling his mind with the sights and sounds of the city as if they would crowd out the nightmares. As if some of those nightmares weren’t hiding behind the ordinary London bustle.

Sasha was the first one to greet him when they returned to work. “Looks like it’s back to business as usual,” he said, squeezing her hands. 

“Or whatever you think is ‘usual’ here,” she responded.

“Good point.”

“As long as we’re done with vampires for a while,” Tim jumped in, “I’ll be happy.”

That’s when Jon strode into the Archives with a full list of assignments for the day, and for a few hours, Martin was too busy to think about why they might be far from done.

Much later, after Sasha and Tim had left for the day, Martin approached Jon’s desk. “I, er, have something for you.”

Jon didn’t look up. “I think I’ve had all the tea that I can drink.”

Martin held out the glass jar that he’d given more than one suspicious glance since he’d first gotten hold of it. “I think it would be a very bad idea to try and ingest this.”

That prompted Jon to raise his eyes. “What is that?”

“Well, it _was_ Jane Prentiss. One of the Sectioned officers gave it to me. I thought it might… make you feel better, I guess, to know that she’s dust.” Jon held out his hand to accept the jar, very slowly. “Do you? Feel better?” His wounds, which he’d had to assure Martin repeatedly had come from the insects and worms rather than their masters, had faded into scars that should, by rights, have made him seem _less_ attractive.

“Physically, yes, but this catastrophe has left me with more questions. Fortunately, our purpose is to look for answers.” Jon almost smiled. “I do appreciate the thought, Martin. Wouldn’t this be a good time for you to go home?”

“I will,” Martin promised. “Soon.”

“What’s keeping you?”

“I want to talk to Elias about something, first.” He hadn’t planned to tell Jon even that much, but it was probably better if someone knew where he was going.

Jon’s gaze sharpened. “Perhaps this is _something_ that I should also know about.” 

Martin assured him that they’d talk about it tomorrow, hoping that he’d be able to at least keep that promise. Jon looked less than entirely happy, but he finally turned back to his work. Martin watched him for longer than was strictly necessary, and then made himself leave the room and climb the stairs. He reached into his pocket and touched the wooden stick that he’d sharpened, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it.

The déjà vu crept up on him as he knocked on the door to Elias’ office and, when told to come in, pushed it open: not only the memories of past one-on-one meetings, but the sense that there was something he should remember but couldn’t. Something that he _needed_, that had brought him here in the past, and why was he sure that he’d once crawled in on his hands and knees?

A possible answer occurred to him, and whatever he’d planned to say, it caught in his throat.

“What can I do for you?” Elias asked with a smile that could almost be mistaken for friendly and welcoming.

Martin took a deep breath and let it out. “There’s no way to say this without sounding like I stepped out of a bad movie,” he began. “But I know what you are. I have for a while, now.” He listed everything that he’d noted during his stay in the Archives, and before: from the mysterious marks on his co-workers’ necks to Elias’ undiscussed aversion to sunlight, and the way he’d smirked at the sight of a cross from Artifact Storage. “I’m not sure if anyone else knows,” Martin finished. “But I think most of them are more willing to believe in vampires now than they were a few months ago.”

Elias had folded his hands on his desk as he listened. “I would ask what you plan to do with this information,” he said, his calm voice flowing over everything that was sharp and deadly, “but I can tell that you haven’t thought that far ahead. You rarely do.”

“Whatever happens next...” Martin’s heartbeat had sped up, and he felt a sudden thirst that prickled throughout his entire body, one that he knew that he could quench, and all he had to do was (_beg_) ask. “…I don’t imagine it’s my decision,” he managed.

“Very perceptive indeed.” Elias was smiling again. “Jon doesn’t give you enough credit, Martin. Your investigative abilities are truly extraordinary when you apply yourself, as you’ve clearly done in order to unravel this particular mystery.” Far too quickly, he was standing inches away from Martin, catching his gaze and holding it. “More than once, in fact.”

Martin could have asked what he meant by that, but he didn’t need to, and as Elias’ teeth sharpened before his eyes, he knew that it was far too late.

-

“Here you are.” Martin set two cups of tea on Jon’s desk. “I think that if I brewed yours for any longer, it would start to crystallize.”

When he’d approached the Institute that morning, he’d felt a sudden urge to turn and run as far away as possible. He told himself that almost anyone would feel that way when approaching a place where they’d nearly died horrifically, and hurried on through the door. Fixing the tea had helped to calm him. This was where he belonged, what he was supposed to do, because Jon had an important role to play and he would need Martin to…

“Thank you.” Jon took a sip. “It’s perfect. Now, what did you and Elias need to talk about last night?”

Martin’s shoulders tensed, as if somebody were sneaking up behind him. Nobody was. “Only about how to make things easier for you,” he replied truthfully. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> To find out what Elias has planned for Jon, go read "Promotion" ([Side A](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316034) and/or [Side B](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316058)).
> 
> Thank you, again and always, to NevillesGran, for not only helping to create an AU that is relevant to so _very_ many of my interests, but also for numerous chats about how events might unfold there, including the conversation that became this fic. The restaurant that Martin suggests was very deliberately named. <3


End file.
